Another Place
by WontLastTwoDays
Summary: A dark fic of anger and longing. Recovered from the brink of death, Rick Grimes has awoken in another place where nightmares end, all except his. Will Rick be consumed by his nightmares or find his redemption?
1. Chapter 1

_Carl,_

_For so long I've wondered what to write to you. How to explain how I failed you and our family. What I know now, Carl, is that you had too much faith in me. You were the sheriff since the Green farm, not me. You always bounced back to believing the best in people, not me. Our friend told me once, "This is a nightmare and nightmares end." Nightmares do end, Carl. I know because I exist beyond the nightmare in another place._

_But I cannot live here, Carl. The nightmare doesn't end for me. They want me to be grateful. They tell me the story over and over about being found near death. How they repaired my body, brought me to this place and have asked for nothing in return. Nothing, ha. They ask of me the one thing I cannot, I will not give them. I will never belong with them Carl, never. I'm not proud of what I've done. But at least they know me now. They know I am their worst nightmare._

_I love you, Carl._

_Dad_

Rick Grimes lifted his calloused fingertip from the cinderblock wall. The skin felt raw from the tracing the imagined composition onto the wall. At one time, they had offered him a notebook and pen. He took it. And when the evening attendant came with his meal he stabbed her with the pen. He'd thought it would cause a scene. The poor woman would scream in pain which would alarm the guards. Then, he'd use the distracting event to get his cell door open subdue the guards, go up the stairwell at the south of the hall, subdue the guard at the exit door of the stairwell and escape. He made it as far as the stairwell that time, but the guards were seasoned at his escape attempts and threw tear gas grenades into the stairwell temporarily blinding him and overpowering his faculties. After the pen attack, his captors truly realized there was nothing they could provide him that he wouldn't turn into a weapon. They stripped his room of everything except his orange jumpsuit.

As the months wore into years, prison reformist would debate the warden to allow Rick Grimes some humanitarian comfort. They couldn't bear the thought of life in prison without a book to read or a blanket. Rick Grimes needed counseling and connection, not isolation! But the warden would remind the reformist of his prisoner's convicted crimes, the once frequent escape attempts from prison after sentencing, and always finish with the pen attack to remind the reformers of what happens when one shows Rick Grimes any charity at all.

"The best thing you can do for Rick Grimes is to go on living your life. Play music, eat dinner with your neighbors, take your children to reading time at the library. Show the terrorist that his obsession to end our way of life won't change who we are." The warden would share this last piece of advice with a sigh to project humility and pity. Then he'd add, "If you'd like, you can write letters to him so he knows your hopes for his rehabilitation."

The reformist would take the offered supplies and pen hopeful letters to the prisoner. Then they'd acquiesce and walk away whispering amongst themselves that they tried, as always. The warden knew that the reformers petition for Rick Grimes was fickle and only ever to assuage their own moral anxiety. They never brought their petition to the bodies in their community that could actually release Rick Grimes or reduce his sentence. No, they just needed the warden to put their mind at ease that Rick Grimes was where he belonged so that they could rest easy tonight in their warm beds believing they'd done all they could to restore moral honor and fairness in their community.

As Rick rubbed the sore pad of this pointer finger, the food slot of his cell door opened.

"Rick Grimes, you have mail. As ordered by the warden, I will read each to you."

"Fuck you," Rick mumbled to himself.

"Dear Rick Grimes, my name is Alice Winthrop. I read in the last annual report of the Warden that you are still in isolation. I want you to know that I and my colleagues think it is wrong to keep you isolated. We wish for the conditions of your imprisonment to change and we petition the warden for such. We have left with the warden books for you and a blanket crocheted by Teresa who couldn't make it here today. We hope these items will remind you that even in isolation there are people who care about you. Yours in Peace, Alice"

There was a pause as the guard unfolded the second letter.

"Dear Mr. Grimes, I've written to you before and hope the warden is giving you my letters. My name is Keith Truman and my son Lance died in the attack. I want you to know that after much prayer, I forgive you. I came here with a group asking the Warden to show you the mercy you didn't show Lance. In Peace, Keith"

The letters continued but Rick tuned it out and slumped into the corner of his cell. He hated these letters. He knew why the Warden did this. He wanted Rick to know who much of a piece of shit he was. It was sadistic and cheap. Rick would not bend to this manipulation and the Warden knew this, too. Both men understood that if Rick got hold of those books or Teresa's blanket he would do anything to get his cell door opened. Yes, people were injured and some died. But this place stood between him and the only thing he ever wanted, his family. And no amount of mercy or goodwill would ever rehabilitate him to accept his reality.

* * *

"Doctor, his eyelids are fluttering. I think he's trying to wake up."

Rick heard the commotion in the room before he opened his eyes. He tried to lift his hand but sensing the IV needle in his arm, left it resting. He moved his tongue around in his mouth to relieve the feeling of pasty saliva. He started to arch his back from where he rested to shift his positions. As he started to move his spine his side seized in pain. He double blinked and opened his eyes.

Rick was flooded with confusion, he was in a hospital room. A real hospital room with beeping monitors, electricity, a doctor in a white coat and a nurse in scrubs. Was he dreaming?

The nurse smiled, "welcome back to the land of the living."

The doctor asked, "do you know your name?"

Rick nodded. A headache was forming.

"Good. Can you tell me?"

"Rick Grimes," he croaked.

"Yes, that is what we have on file, Rick Grimes."

"Do you know how you got here?"

Rick shook his head no. Where was here? Was this Atlanta? Had it all been a fucking nightmare? Or was this some miracle hospital in D.C.? If this was D.C., where was Michonne?

The doctor could see the confusion clouding Rick's face. "Don't worry if you cannot remember, it will come back to you. I'm Dr. White and this is nurse Laura. You've been here for two weeks. We kept you deeply sedated the first week so that you could heal, this week we've been reducing the sedation to help you wake up. How do you feel?"

"Where am I?"

"You're at the hospital. Are you in any pain?"

"No," Rick lied.

"Can I get you some water," the nurse asked in a sugary voice.

Rick wanted to refuse but his stomach made a loud growl at the offer.

"Laura, why don't you get him some chicken broth instead."

"Sure thing, be right back."

"I'm sure you are famished. There is only so much glucose we can put in an IV, but we'll start slow with food just as precaution."

"I'd like to see my family."

The doctor's face went blank for just a moment like he didn't understand what Rick could mean. Then his face lit up with recognition.

"Yes, I'll have her paged for you."

With that, Rick fell back asleep.

Rick hated this memory. Why did he fall back asleep? He berated himself with this question thousands of times. He saw the tell on that doctor's face. He knew something was off to be in a hospital that felt like before and she was not by his side. He often woke up at night with false memories of ripping the IV out of his hand and running. Running and running down a hospital hall that never ends. No exit door ever appears. Sometimes he tries to open doors on the unending hall. Most are locked. Sometimes a hoard of walkers pour out of a door that opens. Sometimes it's the smiling face of Dr. White chiding him to get back to bed. His family never appears in these dreams; though they are who he's running toward. Rick often awoke in a cold, shivering sweat from this nightmare. A strangled yelp leaving his throat resembling the only name he cannot keep locked from his subconscious screams, Carl.

The prison guards knew Rick had this repeated nightmare too. He would thrash on the floor of his cell. His heels would smack the concrete so hard it would leave purple welts. The horror of this man howling for his son, convulsing in his sleep spooked the guards. Only once had an asshole of a guard, Jesse, tried to taunt Rick by cracking a joke about "Carl" and Rick lunged his arm out of the food slot, managed to grab Jesse's pant leg and began to claw and tear at him like a roamer. They probably fractured Rick's arm with their billy clubs to get him to let go, but Rick wouldn't show it. Jesse got a few stitches in his hamstring before he was fired.

"Rick?" The timid voice sounded familiar. Rick's eyes fluttered open to see Anne standing nervously at the foot of his bed.

"H-hi, Rick. We made it," Anne beamed. Rick scanned the room only seeing Nurse Laura with her.

"Where are they," Rick asked confused.

Anne's eyes fell. "They didn't make it Rick. There was an explosion. Remember? They didn't make it."

Nurse Laura looked away, tears rimming the bottom of her eyes. She twisted her face into a bright smile and interrupted.

"She's your guardian angel, Rick. If she hadn't have called us in? Well, you would have been one of the lost too. You had lost so much blood from that explosion. When you arrived, I even had to donate some of my own to keep you here with us."

Rick's thoughts were still sedated but he knew he was alone on that bridge. That memory felt certain. So how could his family not have made it? Made it where? Anxiety caused the muscles in Rick's body to start to clinch. He recognized the warm, achy feeling of a wound at his side. He slowly reached to touch the wound. Like swearing on a Bible, Rick placed his hand gently palm down and made direct eye contact with the women.

"I remember," he said flatly. Nurse Laura, eager to push past the unpleasant memories clapped her hands and began to turn away to update his chart. Rick looked at Anne directly then, his silent stare clearly conveyed what he thought of her salvation narrative.

Anne gasped like a fish out of water and blurted, "Nurse, when will Rick be able to be released?"

"Well, he hasn't had any solid food yet. Since some of his GI track experienced trauma in the accident, we'll need to make sure that is all working properly before he can be released to rest at home." Laura gave a quick wink to Anne.

"That's good news, isn't it Rick? You just have to eat well and you can get out of here."


	2. Chapter 2

_Chapter 2, In The Beginning_

Before Rick was released from the hospital, almost a week after he awoke, he was visited by a member of the Community Council.

"I came by because I heard you had recovered and I wanted to meet the last survivor of Virginia." Frank Costa spoke with an accent the indicated English wasn't his first language. "Tragic to lose Virginia. You all were working really hard to improve yourselves."

"You saw what happened," Rick asked puzzled.

"No, I'm not part of the Life Recovery Crew. The whole crew and Anne shared their testimony a few weeks ago about the herd, the explosion, and the last stand. Just terrible."

"I'd like to speak to the crew."

"Yes, I can make that happen. Rick, most of our community formed at the start of the disease, though we've recovered many lives over the years. The Recovered Lives like to get together Monday nights at the Library. I think it would be good for you to go. Meet people who've been through what you've been through."

Rick was released from the hospital into Anne's care. She showed him around the vibrant, anachronistic community as they walked. Only a few subtle changes from the world before tipped Rick off that this was still after the time of walkers. There were very few gas-powered cars in the community, some electric cars, many horses, golf carts and bicycles.

"Where does the electricity come from?"

"The community has an electricity plant. It's stable power, not gas hungry generators. With stable power, the community has almost everything from before. Manufacturing, farming, schools, even telephones."

"How did you know about this place?"

"I didn't. I had heard a rumor. But it wasn't until I called for someone to save you that I found out it was real and not a story."

"You kept this from us."

"No, I swear, Rick, I didn't know it was real."

"Where are we?"

"I don't really know." Anne grabbed Rick's arm and pulled him to the side to let foot traffic pass. "All that we knew in Virginia is dead, Rick. Your people, my people, Negan's people. All dead. You took me in when I lost everything. The least I could do was to try and keep you alive."

"Then where are we?"

"It doesn't matter. No world exists outside of this one."

Rick was still too weak to force the truth and the intentional misdirections were exhausting his patience. He fell silent and studied the surrounds as they slowly walked along the tree-lined streets. He looked for any clues of where they were, but all signs and markers seemed foreign and new. The people who passed them on the sidewalk seemed pulled out of the past. A couple walked by vigorously debating in a language he couldn't recognize. For several blocks, he heard mostly English but also other languages as well.

Anne now lived in an apartment on the 3rd floor of a low-rise apartment building. There was only one bedroom and Rick refused to take it for his convalescence, insisting to sleep on the couch. He ate his meals, changed his own bandages and sat in a chair by the window studying the rhythms of the life outside. No weapons on anyone. No uniformed patrols. He worked hard to sift through his own memories mining them for the truth.

The next day the Life Recovery Crew came to visit Rick. They each told the same story. The communities' fighters had rushed to the bridge to take out the herds and save Rick. The explosion wiped them all out. Herds dispursed grew bigger and overtook each community. Anne saw Alexandria fall when she was trying to get back to the community. Rick himself was near death when on a hope and a prayer, Anne found him, switched to each radio channel asking for "recovery." They heard and picked the two of them up and flew over the other communities looking for survivors. Rick tried to crack them for clues about their current location. Such as how long were they in the chopper or did they have to transfer to a truck. The crew would redirect by "suddenly remembering" another detail of a person they watched die or freshly reanimated. The personal details were correct, seemingly solidifying the veracity of their stories. Before leaving they all shook Rick's hand and congratulated him for pulling through.

The next day, Rick finally asked, "so how does this all work?"

"There is a governing council, they're elected. You met Frank, he's one. They hold government meetings every Wednesday. When you're feeling up to it, there is an Employment Board. There are wages and money of a sort, but so far I haven't really had to use any. They distribute basic rations and most supplies are free. I got a job at the secondary school." Anne's matter of fact tone was tinged with hope that Rick was coming around.

"What day is it?"

When Anne replied that it was Monday, Rick asked where the Library was. After some disagreement about Rick walking there on his own, Anne acquiesced. Rick found the Library but barely glanced at it before continuing on. He wanted to know how big this community was. He walked for several blocks before tiring out. He needs to build up his endurance. This placed seemed to be a town, maybe even a small city. He couldn't see where the walls even began.

Rick looked around and noticed people staring at him deeply startled by Rick's apparent lost behavior. Rick turned and headed back toward the library.

The Recovered Lives meeting looked like an Alcoholics Anonymous meeting. Rows of folding chairs facing a small podium. People sitting spaces apart lost in their own thoughts. A few pairs of private conversations in the corners of the room. Rick sat at the end of a row. A middle-aged man with long gray-brown hair pulled back in a ponytail sitting in the middle of the row scooted over next to Rick and introduced himself. His name was Curtis and before the two men could learn more about each other the meeting was called to order. The meeting facilitator, Dan, asked all the attendees to introduce themselves. As everyone spoke Rick tried to gauge their demeanor. Some people exhibited Anne's enthusiasm and exuded gratitude for their "Recovered Life." Others were more reserved. Curtis was exuberant in his introduction which disappointed but didn't surprise Rick.

"I'm excited to see that we have a new face tonight. Please stand up and introduce yourself," Dan encouraged. Rick stood up said his name and that he'd been out of the hospital for a couple of days. Dan peppered Rick with questions about how he got to the hospital, his care at the hospital and his life the past couple days.

"Friends, can we all give Rick a round of applause for his Recovered Life." While the room filled with clapping Rick's skin crawled.

Dan's voice turned somber as he announced, "Rick, what we usually do next at this meeting is talk about the Lost Lives. For those of you that have been recovered, it can be hard to adjust to a peaceful community. Your community members have lived in peace so long that you may feel they cannot relate. So we take the time here to share about those Lost Lives. Rick, is there a Lost Life on your mind tonight?"

Rick shook his head and sat down. Dan opened the question up to the rest of the group. A third of the group shared about a person they knew who they cared about and lost to walkers, or murder, famine, or suicide. Rick could feel Carl sitting beside him.

Then, Dan's voice brightened, "Through loss, you have been recovered." Dan's head nodded in silent agreement with his own statement as he looked at people across the room and smiled. "Ok, time for peace! Who wants to get advice from the group? Anyone have a success story? Anyone struggling?"

Several people shared about adjusting to "life in peace." One shared a success story of remembering to do laundry and the group clapped. Then Dan turned to Rick again, "Rick, what advise do you want from these fellow Recovered Lives?"

Rick wanted nothing more than to storm out of whatever therapy cult was happening in this room, but if he wanted information, then he needed to play along. "I'm ready to look for a job."

"That's terrific, Rick. Who has advice for Rick about taking on responsibility in community?"

Curtis spoke first and turned to Rick, "I don't have advice but just to say, I'd love for you to work with me, Rick. I need help and I would love to help you settle into this life in peace."

Rick rubbed his thumb across the pads of his two fingertips and nodded a quick confirmation to the cultist Curtis so all the other eyes would stop looking at him in anticipation. When the meeting adjourned Curtis gave Rick his contact information and told him to contact him when he was ready. Rick took another meandering route back to Anne's apartment. He had so many fighting thoughts in his head. The loudest were the alarms of how weak and withholding this community was and susceptible to fall at the first herd. The most painful thought was his inability to shake the Lost Lives part of the evening. To conjure up even a flash of her hopeful face the last time they were together felt like Rick was dying. Rick had ghosts that stayed with him, but it was his lost family that all these strangers swore were dead that haunted him. He could feel the way she put her hand in his to tell him it would all be ok. That couldn't be the last time. And finally, the most nagging question, what did he have to do to go home, even if it was to just bury his dead?

"Rick!" Curtis beamed when Rick showed up the next morning at a small nondescript warehouse. "You really are eager to start giving back!"

"I don't know how I can be of use to you, but I can't sit in that living room another day."

"Well come on, come on, living in peace doesn't mean sitting still." Curtis turned and walked quickly toward the warehouse, Rick trailed behind.

"So Rick, what we do here is infrastructure. Electrical lines, circuits, transistors, repeaters, semiconductors. You know, the fun stuff. I've got the people to build or repair all that stuff and I and a few others can maintain it. What I need is someone to install and uninstall it. It can be a pretty dangerous job, up high on a ladder, underground in utility rooms. It's not a desk job and without good ol' capitalism I cannot keep someone in the job. Anne shared about how heroic you were and I thought you'd be a great fit."

Rick made a motion to settle his left hand on his hip. Curtis caught Rick's confused physical response to something missing.

"Did you wear a tactical belt?"

"A gun holster."

"Well, I've got the next best thing." Curtis walked around the corner and came back with an electrician's belt.

Rick looked at Curtis deeply perplexed. "Curtis, I don't know the first thing about electrical infrastructure and you're just going to trust a brand new stranger with this?"

Curtis looked at Rick with that shit-eating enthusiastic grin, "Are you saying I should be concerned?"

* * *

_Present-day_

BANG. BANG. The billy club knocked twice on Rick's cell door. Dinner. Rick pulled himself out of his memories and he walked over to receive his plastic tray of food.

He looked at the peanut butter sandwich made of day-old bread that sat on his dinner tray. He thought about how his daughter hated the tough, chewy crust of sorghum bread and how he would cut it off for her. Rick pulled the hard crust edges off the sourdough sandwich until the crust formed a long sticky, crunchy strip. Rick slowly feed the strip of sandwich crust into his mouth, careful not to chew. When the solid food got to the gag reflex he wretched it out of his mouth. He took a deep breath, focused and tried again.

* * *

Since Curtis had the repair knowledge and Rick the guts to scale heights, the two had to work as a pair which Rick detested. Curtis was the poster boy for living a Recovered Life. He smiled at everyone and made small talk. When people would make tone-deaf comments about him earning his recovery, Curtis would thank them for the compliment. Then they would turn to Rick and tell him how good it was he was working with Curtis.

Anne had also integrated headlong into the community teaching art at the secondary school. He was surrounded and suffocated by goodwill and secrets.

Worse still, the next Recovered Lives meeting was Curtis's 2-year anniversary "in peace." Apparently, when you have an anniversary, the meeting becomes a celebration of your Recovered Life. So there were speeches in his honor and Curtis was invited to recall any and all Lost Lives he wished. To Rick's surprise, though, Curtis's list of Lost Lives was quite long and each recollection stirring. Like the week prior, Rick fought hard to not to conjure up his daughter's giggles or the way his love knew exactly what to say. _We're the ones who live._

Rick did not return to the apartment for hours after the meeting that night. He could not stand being in this community without knowing what happened to his family. But he still hadn't found the borders. No wall, or fence. No clear traffic or gates that lead in or out.

The next morning Rick's sleep deprivation weakened his ability to filter and withhold what he was thinking.

"Curtis, your Lost Lives, do you _know_ they are all dead or do you _think_ you know?"

For a long moment, the usually gregarious Curtis did not respond.

"I know what it's like out there. And I know what happened to the people I was with at the grocery store where I was recovered." Curtis paused for a long time as if he felt trepidation to continue. "But, I _think_ I know what happened to the rest."

Rick's breath hitched at the truth. He exhaled slowly and continued.

"Did you have family out there, Curtis?"

Curtis look out straight ahead. Everything about his posture was pretending this conversation wasn't happening. "I _think_ I did."

Rick turned toward Curtis to face him directly, Curtis did the same. They asked each other with their eyes what couldn't be asked.

"Yes, Rick." Curtis contorted his face into its usual enthusiastic, Recovered Life brightness and smiled.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3: Audition**

Curtis's small confession was the sign Rick needed to try. Now that Curtis knew Rick was, listening, baked into all the installation lessons were important instructions. "This is the central control panel of this transformer station, Rick. Your job is to check the wiring and make sure this connection and this connection are always tight, otherwise, the block to our east that contains core government services will experience a power loss. And we can't have that!"

Rick continued to attend the Monday night therapy cults. He felt compelled to uncover more of the truth. He paid close attention to the silence. Who didn't speak? Who winced when Curtis or another effused about being at peace? Rick talked about some of his lost lives, Bob and Sasha. Tyreese and Noah. He would talk about locations in his remembering of Lost Lives looking for any sign of recognition. But no one seemed stirred by his mentions of the southeast.

Dan pulled him aside on the night he spoke about Noah. "Rick, I was moved by Noah's life tonight."

Rick nodded an acknowledgment and started to step away till Dan spoke again holding him in conversation.

"The way you delivered him home, only to find it gone, so powerful." Dan gently shook his head back and forth savoring the poignancy of the story. "I also notice how markers are important to you, Richmond, for example, is prominent in Noah's story tonight. I'd like you to reflect on why these markers are so meaningful to you. Richmond doesn't exist anymore, you saw that. Richmond isn't the holder of Noah's memory, you are. You are here." With the last comment, Dan made a motion to place a comforting hand on Rick's shoulder but Rick was quick to shift away. Rick wished Dan a pleasant evening without acknowledging Dan's conclusion to pathologize Rick's attempts to get people to recognize who they were before this place.

The next day, Curtis claimed he had a treat for Rick. They were troubleshooting a power outage at the facility dedicated to food storage where community members picked up their weekly ration shares. None of Curtis's fiddlings were fixing the problem. So, they piled into Curtis's golf cart for the "treat." Rick was simultaneously impressed by how quiet the golf cart was and how frustratingly slow the speed was. The city streets gave way to farming fields which seemed to go on for leisurely miles. The farming fields ended and dense forest lines appeared. Not a single walker along the whole journey. Curtis teased Rick to keep his eyes on the powerlines, not the scenery. Finally, Curtis turned down a road that was paved but had no road sign. After another half-mile of dense trees, Rick could see open space ahead. As they approached a low, steady roar grew louder. Finally, Rick could see their destination, a hydroelectric plant. As the horizon came into view Rick saw the edge of the land drop off and crystal water beyond. He thought could make out another shoreline far in the distance. The dam and power plant were old. The dam was wedged in between the land they stood on and a thin, long strip of land just off the coast. A young man came out of the plant to greet them.

"Curtis, what brings you out here?"

"Lance, you tell me? Have you been tinkering out here again?"

"We had a software reboot overnight, did Windows 2000 break the world again," Lance chuckled.

"Lance you know you guys are supposed to call it in before you do stuff like that, we're going to have to bring up the power station in the 24th again."

The men then turned to Rick who had been starring off at the end of the world the whole time.

"Sorry, Lance. The man has no manners. This is Rick. He's our newest community member."

Lance shook Rick's hand. Rick peppered Lance with questions about keeping the walkers out of the dam. Lance pointed to a spot in the canal between the mainland and the thin strip and described the nets. He invited the men to go onto the catwalk of the dam and pointed to what used to be a commercial fishing boat. He was eager to share the gory details of clearing the nets to someone who appeared willing to talk about it. Curtis made small signs with his facial expressions to Lance to cut it out.

"Oh. No? Oh. Uh. I'm sure you need to get back and work on that powerstation. Anyway, Rick, glad to meet you."

Rick shot perturbed looks between the to men who had abruptly cut off the only useful introduction he'd heard in this community. On their way back to the town, Curtis drove a different way following a scenic road along the shoreline. The tall cliffs were their walls. Curtis took the next left back into the forest. Rick continued to stare off at nothing in particular.

"I may have misjudged bringing you out here, Rick. I'm sorry about all that pulling bodies out of the water talk. You just seemed to be stuck out there. I wanted you to _know_ community is all there is. Folks, even Recovered Lives, don't care about where you're from."

Rick finally understood, to every other soul there was nowhere but here. There was no awakening of fellow survivors to rise up and leave.

At the urging of Curtis and others, Rick accepted a dinner invitation for Recovered Lives from Frank Costa, the council member. While Anne enthralled the table about the sublime in the pastel portraits of the grade 7 children, Rick focused on a side conversation between Frank and another.

"How does the community handle crime," Rick asked Frank. His voice carried louder than he intended and the table fell silent at the question.

Frank smiled at the attention. "Why do you ask? Have you experienced a crime?"

Rick's face hardened, "all people can't be selfless all the time."

"True."

"Have you ever had to kick anyone out?"

"No, exile is death. Is that how the people of Virginia handled crimes," Frank asked with a hint of accusation.

Rick bit at the inside of his cheek, "Sometimes."

"We handle justice in community," Frank answered in a corrective tone though he could sense Rick's growing irritation. "The simple answer is that we have a prison. Always have. So, if there is a crime we have a way to keep all our citizens safe. But we are a peaceful community and selective."

"Selective?" Rick picked up on the odd qualifier.

"Yes."

"Has anyone threatened the community from the outside?"

"There is no outside."

Rick could tell with that last question he struck a nerve. Lost Lives weren't necessarily dead after all, just dead to these assholes.

"That was the real problem in Virginia, people wanting to destroy what we had, what we were trying to build."

"Ah," Frank acknowledged, "the belief in scarcity can be powerful. Like a drug. But you've been able to overcome that drug, right Rick? Anne told us that she knew she could trust you the day you told her "it's not the place, it's the people."

Rick's blood ran cold as ice. He told Anne that on the day she shot him and nearly killed the love of his life. There was little chance that in her salvation narrative of mere weeks ago she'd remembered to drop in such a small detail from 2 years before. They knew Anne! Being here wasn't some Hail Mary pass. They were "selective" and he was selected. Rick wanted to flip the table and beat Frank to a pulp then and there.

"Rick?" Anne's face looked concerned as she pulled him out of his thoughts.

"Got me thinking about lost life."

Slowly the chatter at the table picked back up. Meanwhile, all the dominos fell in Rick's thinking. From the day Rick made a deal with Jadis for the weapons all the way through organizing a crew to grab seeds from the museum, Rick was unwittingly auditioning for this. This place thought they had found a trophy. Rick suddenly thought of the wire cat statue and felt nauseous. This community wanted to feast on the horror of his memories, like Dan. They felt entitled to his life because they restored his flesh. From across the table, Curtis made eye contact with Rick and smiled. Did Curtis knowingly audition? Was he unwittingly recovered, like Rick? Rick settled on the first theory. Curtis was too good at this. He had to have wanted it. Did he regret it? Not knowing what the true cost would be - that they pick who's worthy. That you can never leave. Rick shot up from the table startling everyone a second time. He stumbled quickly out of Frank's house and was wretched his stomach out in the grass lawn.

Anne had followed Rick out of the dinner party. She was hovering again.

"We take. We don't bother." Rick spat at Anne.

"What?"

"That's what you said to me the day we met. 'We take. We don't bother."

Anne understood that Rick had figured out the totality of her relationship with the community. "Rick there is truth in everything I have said to you. I did find you near death and knew this was the only option for your survival. Before we arrived here, this place was only a mirage to me."

"Enough," Rick roared. The commotion called the rest of the dinner party out to the front porch. Anne began to plead with him in the street.

"Rick, I wasn't good enough. They wouldn't take me alone. They wouldn't take any of my people. So, I had to find what they wanted. You. This community is for the good and the selfless. It is what you've dreamed of, its what we've all dreamed of." Jadis held her arms wide-sweeping them toward the people on the porch. "Life exists. _Real life_ exists here."

"Good? This _community_ isn't good, it's comfortable. I've never wanted that!"

His voice broke, "I just want my family."

Anne matched his quiet tone, "They're dead, Rick."

Rick pivoted and started walking away. As Rick stormed off Anne looked up at the front porch of people who watched the scene. Frank glowered at Anne demanding that she handle the situation. He turned away and went back into his house.

* * *

_Present-day_

BANG. BANG. The billy club banged on Rick's cell door and the food slot opened. A few moments passed.

"Come on Rick, give me the tray." The stillness continued.

BANG. BANG. Nothing.

The guard shut the food slot to avoid Rick reaching out to grab at him. And peered into the window. Rick had to be near the door because from the high angle of the window he couldn't see Rick at all.

"Shit." The guard mumbled to himself. He whistled and nodded to his fellow guards at the end of the long hall to come to meet him in front of the door. The guards all wore matching perturbed expressions realizing that Rick was up to his shit again. They drew their guns. The first guard reopened the food slot and quickly stepped back to peer in.

"Come on Rick, not today. We don't need this." The guard could see Rick's foot, he stepped to the right to try to get a better look at the rest of him.

"Oh NO. Oh, Shit!" The guard grabbed the walkie off his hip. "Open Cell 2 now!" A couple of seconds passed.

"Open Cell 2 now, goddammit!" The armed guards removed the safety switches still pointing at the door. The door made a sound of a loud metal latch unlocking and the guard swung open the door.

He lunged to the ground over Rick's pale blue body. "No, no, NO!" If he let the Rick Grimes turn into a bitter, he'd be the next person in this cell. He checked his pulse and couldn't feel one. He opened his mouth and looked inside. He had choked on his dinner.

"Call the doctor, NOW!" the guard barked as he began hard thrusts under Rick's sternum. After the 4th thrust, the obstruction moved where the guard could try a finger sweep. But a sweep didn't clear it. Against protocol, he decided to pull and he gently pulled the very long piece of sandwich out of Rick's throat.

"What the fuck?" The guard exclaimed as he stared too long at the disgusting piece pinched between his fingers. He heard Rick make a small cough below him. The guard looked down to see Rick's piercing eyes wide open and trained on him.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4 Escape

As Rick stormed off, he regretted his public outburst. Rick needed to disappear, but he had handlers and attempting escape on foot would be noticed before he could make it out. He also couldn't buy more time for an escape plan by pretending to integrate, they all knew now what he thought of the place. He had to act and headed toward Curtis's warehouse. He used a large rock to smash the plate glass. He walked through the office space to the warehouse. He grabbed a tool bag and went in search of anything that could cut or smash - bolt and cable cutters, snippers.

As he came around a blindspot, Anne tried to stab him with a duct knife. He fell backward onto the concrete floor.

"Just stop," Anne declared.

"Or what?" Rick got to his feet with a pair of bolt cutters in his hand.

Anne lunged at Rick again. He smashed be bolt cutters against the knuckles of her right hand causing her to drop her weapon. She felt the next blow of hard, cold metal against her lower jaw sending shockwaves of pain and disorientation through her head. She slumped. Rick struck one more time at the back of her and her body dropped to the ground.

He grabbed the tool bag and the knife. Rick needed to create chaotic distraction to buy him time to get to the hydroelectric plant. The catwalk at the dam would lead him to the boat they use to clear nets and out. He hit as many power stations as he knew of shutting down the power across the city. He hotwired a golf cart and headed out of town. The cart at 19mph was faster than running, but it felt nerve-wracking slow.

Back in the town a panic spread. People rushed the streets, Curtis tried to pull his maintenance crew together but their lines were busy. All except Anne's number that rang and rang. Curtis guessed at what was happening and called it into the public safety department. He then headed out to the warehouse.

While Rick was still in the miles of farming fields he heard a helicopter. He couldn't get a visual on it yet which hopefully meant they hadn't found him.

He let his ghosts and memories flood him now and fuel his mission. He thought of Michonne & Judith jousting, Daryl making more bows for his crossbow, Maggie watching Hershel trying tomato for the first time, Aaron's stories about Gracie. His gut screamed at him, "they aren't dead. They can't be. We're the ones who win."

"CURTIS," Councilor Frank Costa roared as he carried an oil lamp into the community meeting room where the leaders of government and security had gathered in the dark, "you guileless fool! He murdered his sponsor and has destroyed our community."

Frank turned toward the security team who were huddled over maps checking in with observers from quadrants of the city and marking the map. "Where is he," Frank barked at the team.

"Undetermined, sir."

"Could this be a murder-suicide," another council member asked to no one in particular.

"Is he a bitter?!"

For a few seconds the dark room fell silent except for the reports over the walkies.

Frank turned to the security team, "deploy all resources. Total lockdown. Mandatory shelter in homes."

"You," Frank spat at Curtis, "take your Recovered and find him."

When the golf cart made it into the forest, Rick's anxiety lightened. The sound of the helicopter did not appear to be getting closer. He ran the plan over and over in his mind. What is the move if they spotted him before he made it to the dam, or if they spotted him in the boat? The forest broke to tall grass again. Rick once again heard the soft sound of the land's edge and the violent waves that crashed against it. Rick ditched the golf cart about a half-mile from the power plant and proceeded on foot, the duct knife Jadis tried to kill him with in one hand and a bag of electrical supplies now weapons in the other.

The dam wasn't well lit on the outside, just spotlights at key gates and paths. Faint light shone from inside where Rick assumed the hydrodam crew were working. Rick used the bolt cutters to break the lock on an unused gate entrance. He headed across what was once a large parking lot and was now mostly weeds and chunks of asphalt staying in the deep shadows and way from the spotlights.

The roar of the dam and water were loud now. Rick followed any exterior sign or door that said "Service Personnel Only" or "Warning Do Not Enter." When he finally climbed down to the catwalk he was surprised by Lance waiting further down the metal platform.

"Rick," Lance yelled over the roar of water and machinery, "no."

Rick took Lance's presence as a threat preventing his escape. He charged at the young man.

"It doesn't work," Lance screamed as Rick bounded toward him. "It doesn't go."

Before Rick could judge what Lance was trying to tell him, that his escape plan was doomed, Rick rammed Lance with his shoulder and lifted his body over the railing and into the headwaters. Even in the darkness Rick saw Lance's shock and fear-stricken face as he was swept into the current, pulled down against the trash rack of the dam and drowned.

The next seconds felt like slow motion from the adrenaline. Rick looked up from the water, to his right on the catwalk from where he had just entered stood Curtis and others behind him with flashlights. Curtis looked at Rick in horror. His face was pale. He lifted his arms up to signal peace.

Rick turned his head left. At the far end of the catwalk where stairs led to the dead boat and his dream of returning home, Rick saw another group with flashlights appear.

Curtis, his arms still raised, approached Rick with a cautious gait like a trapping an animal.

"What have you done?"

* * *

On the day of Rick's hearing many people testified about their fear and pain at what Rick had done to their community. When Curtis came forward to give testimony he put his hand reassuringly on Rick's shoulder as he passed.

"Councilors, Rick Grimes has committed heinous acts against our community. But he committed those crimes from a place of pain. A darkness that I know well. You see I aided Rick with information. Information he ultimately used to attack the community." Audible gasps could be heard in the room as Curtis continued.

"Why did I feed this information to Rick knowing that he was in pain? Because I needed proof to show you all that the Life Recovery Crew needs to be shut down.

The community thinks it is being charitable by recovering the best people from being lost. However, there is a reason we recovered lives gather every week. The reason is that we were the best out there because we had others who were counting on us. For those of us who chose recovery, there is guilt. Guilt that I've carried for two years knowing that my lost lives didn't make it without me. For those, like Rick, where recovery was chosen for him, there is rage.

So, I fed Rick information knowing he would use it enraged. Now, I can show you all the folly of your charity and demand that for the safety of us all the Life Recovery mission must end."

There were murmurs of surprise in the crowd. The council huddled together. Rick's stoic anger shattered into defeated betrayal as he realized Curtis had used him for his own agenda. He envisioned his family slipping away from him forever.

Councilor Frank held up his hand to silence the room. "Curtis, we will address a sentencing for your accessory crimes in a separate hearing. But, I speak for the rest of the council in acknowledging that you have shown us the error in our belief that lives can be recovered. We will honor your petition and disband the Life Recovery Crew, effective immediately."

Curtis expressed his gratitude, stepped down from the podium and looked Rick straight in the face as he walked passed. His mission accomplished he felt no shame in sentencing Rick to life in prison.

"Rick Grimes, we understand that you have waived your right to testify?" Rick nodded. "Then, we are prepared for sentencing. Rick Grimes, you are sentenced to life in prison for the murder of Anne Jadis and Lance Truman, and for acts of terrorism against the community. May you find peace."

* * *

_Present-Day_

"What the fuck?" The guard exclaimed as he stared too long at the disgusting piece pinched between his fingers. He heard Rick make a small cough below him. The guard looked down to see Rick's piercing eyes wide open and trained on him.

The guard made a motion to lurch back, away from Rick, but his reaction was slow. Rick smacked him unconscious with his own billy club that he had unwittingly laid down on the floor next to Rick.

Rick breathed deep and with all his force picked himself and the guard up off the barren floor. He used the unconscious guard as a shield from the armed guards. He made his way toward the door at the end of the hall that he hope the doctor team would rush through at any moment. When he heard them approaching, he threw the body at one of the guards knocking him over. He attacked the second guard with a charging palm strike to the chin. Then Rick grabbed their weapons. The hallway door opened. Rick charged at the additional guard, and the doctor, he pushed past the gurney and ran down the hall.

He made it to a the stairwell. When he pushed on the door blaring alarms sounded. Inside the stairwell, the sound was deafening, but Rick kept going. When he burst through the exit door of the stairs he shot the guard monitoring the stairs in the right shoulder. Rick made it outside, the frigid raw concrete sent chills up his bare feet. It had been over two years since he'd made it to the outside. He found a guard locking the gate of the yard.

"Open it," Rick demanded. The guard drew his gun. Rick shot him in the head. He reached through the fence for the key in the dead man's hand and opened the gate. He was now on the service road that led into the service entrance of the small prison. He had made it outside the gates. He heard the sound of bullets ricochet past him. He ran. He needed to strip himself of his clothes that were a perfect target orange for snipers. A bullet cut his ear and it started to bleed. Rick didn't say anything to the guards at the service road gate. He shot bullets at their bulletproof glass obscuring the clear glass and their ability to shelter in place and pursue him. He ran under the traffic arm and dashed into the wooded land beside the road.

Rick was bleeding and broken, but he did not stop running. In the forest, he heard the alarm at the prison stop. The silence reminded him of the helicopters in his first escape attempt. Silence was bad. He ran away from the direction of town, determined to finally find where the community ended. Determined to find death.

* * *

Chairman Frank Costa opened the emergency meeting with what everyone was thinking, "How the hell are we here again? How did he get out?!"

Another councilor answered, "There will be time to investigate those answers in the future. What we have to do now is gather a team to pursue him."

The attendees in the room mumbled in agreement.

"And lose more people? He's already killed two today," Frank countered, "Councilor Curtis what do you say?"

Curtis took a second to let the room go quiet. In the years of Rick's imprisonment, the community had accepted Curtis's deception as an intervention. In the next council election, he won more votes than any candidate ever and was a trusted voice. "Fellow councilors, community leaders, Rick Grimes is heading to the cliffs where he will likely die once he hits the water. It's almost winter. He has no supplies or food. I imagine he will show up in our nets within the month. If by some miracle he doesn't, and we're still concerned he can threaten us," Curtis's voice dropped as he articulated every word, "we know where he is going. We don't have to pursue, we can meet him there. Right, Dante?" Curtis turned to face the dark haired man he named who smiled and nodded expressively.


End file.
